


On the windowsill

by Ostodvandi



Series: EphLyon week [1]
Category: Fire Emblem: The Sacred Stones
Genre: Fluff and Angst, It might be pre game it might be another universe entirely, Lyon and his insecurities, M/M, There's always angst in ephlyon, When the fuck is this happening? I don't know, a bit of a mess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-21
Updated: 2019-10-21
Packaged: 2020-12-27 14:04:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21120020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ostodvandi/pseuds/Ostodvandi
Summary: Lyon wakes up late at night, and, unable to stay in his own room, there's only one option left.





	On the windowsill

**Author's Note:**

> First day of ephlyon week and I'm starting soft because the next days are probably going to be angst city. Writing Ephraim is hell but I'll do it for ephlyon.
> 
> Day 1 of ephlyon week I chose Darkness.

When Lyon slips out of his bed at night, he does so with sweat on his face, and a mind filled with images of the nightmare that has tormented him this night. 

And he won't be able to go back to sleep, he knows this. It's not the first time it happens. In the darkness of this night, the nightmares would only come back. The room feels suffocating, unconnected with him despite being his, as if accusing him of something.

There are many things anyone could accuse him of. Being weak, indecisive, unworthy are just the ones that he can immediately think of.

He looks up, at the window from where moonlight manages to come in, and he remembers something.

He puts on a pair of shoes he finds by the side of his bed, and wraps a cloak on his shoulders, to protect from the chilling cold of the Gradian night. 

He knows this part of the castle perfectly, and the way to those chambers even better so. Still, his fingertips brush at the old and cold stone, keeping him balanced in the dark.

When the arrives there, the doubts crawl in. Maybe he's sleeping. He's probably tired. He's been training all day. He shouldn't be bothering him.

Lyon places a hand on Ephraim's door, unable to gather enough confidence to knock on it. 

And then it opens, to Ephraim's tired but very much awake face, illuminated by a candle, as if he had read his thoughts.

They stare at each other in silence, surprise evident in Ephraim's eyes, until his lips curl up in a tired smile.

'Come in, Lyon.'

And Lyon does so, hearing Ephraim close the door behind him. 'Where were you going?'

'To your room,' Ephraim says, exhaustion clear in his voice. 'I couldn't sleep.'

'I couldn't either.'

A moment of silence, before Ephraim blows out the fire on the candle. Before that, Lyon has noticed a thick book on the windowsill, and sits on it while trying to decipher the title.

It's not hard, letting himself relax like this in a room where he has spent many nights since he was a child. Even when the twins weren't visiting, sometimes he'd come here. Because it felt safer than his own room.

'Legends and myths of Magvel. I wanted some heavy reading to try and fall asleep, but it didn't work.'

Lyon smiles as Ephraim walks closer and sits on the windowsill as well. The moonlight is at their backs, as Lyon strokes the cover of the book.

'I'd say it's a very interesting topic.'

'It's more interesting when you explain it to me,' Ephraim states. 'Like most things.'

'You know I have no trouble explaining anything to you.' Lyon replies, trying to keep the flush on his face from showing up in his voice as well. 

But then Ephraim's hand is on his, wrapping its fingers around his skin, lifting it until Ephraim's lips brush against the scars the use of dark magic had left there. 

'I like listening to your voice.' Ephraim says, against the palm of Lyon's hand.

Maybe under other circumstances Lyon would've taken his hand away, but there was something about the way the moonlight made half of Ephraim's face shine that stopped him.

Ephraim had told him that so many times, yet it still catches him off guard. Maybe he can see the beet red on Lyon's face, even in this darkness.

He tugs at Lyon's arm, definitely not strongly enough to actually push him, but Lyon follows, the book on his lap falling to the floor with a loud sound.

And now he's in Ephraim's arms, and Ephraim is in his, both barely balanced on the windowsill. It is a quite uncomfortable position, so they shift around a little, even if it requires some distance between them. 

But Ephraim's hands are already burning on his skin, even through the gown, and would burn until the morning light were over them.

If only there was a way of staying like this, on the windowsill of a dark room with only the moon over them, being just Ephraim and Lyon, without all the things that left a bitter taste on Lyon's tongue like the throne, or his own weakness, if their destiny was different, then… 

'Lyon.' 

Ephraim's voice grounds him back to the earth, but the thoughts linger on his mind nonetheless.

'I was… thinking. Ephraim...' His blue eyes look up at him, giving him all of his attention. 'If you could be something different… Who would you be?'

He had told him once that he'd live as a mercenary if he could. Travelling around the country, saving the people by his own hand, without being tied to a throne.

But that's not what he says now.

'Maybe I'd like to be your knight.'

Lyon blinks. '...My knight?'

'Yes. A retainer of sorts. Being by your side, helping you out. Protecting you.' _ Watching you be king _ , seems to be the next thing Ephraim will say. It tastes bittersweet. 'And you?'

He doesn’t know. What could he be, aside from what he is? He isn’t even that good at what he is supposedly destined to be. However, if he could choose… 

Maybe it’s the darkness, concealing his real thoughts from Ephraim’s eyes, but he feels a strange confidence in his chest.

‘I’d go… with you.’

‘With me?’

‘It’s nothing.’ Lyon quickly backpedals, distracting himself by picking up the book from the floor. ‘What legend were you reading about?’

Ephraim frowns, but seems to accept the mystery behind Lyon’s words, sitting by his side. Their hands are together, as Ephraim feels they should always be, and he presses a kiss against Lyon’s temple.

For once, in the darkness with the moonlight at their backs and Ephraim’s hand on his, Lyon feels safe. 


End file.
